Transfigurations
by Avilia
Summary: DA:O/DA2 mix.  Set after Act 3.  Cullen and others appearing.  Rated M for later chapters.


_So then, gentle reader, what happened to Cullen? Why did Cassandra need to ask Varric what occurred in the Gallows when there was a perfectly serviceable Templar there as well?_

_Oh - minor DA2/Origins spoilers and references._

_Usual copyright stuff - Cullen, Alistair, Bethany and other lore characters belong to Bioware. Anyone they've never heard of belongs to me._

The soft rustle of leaves nearby brought Cullen to his feet, sword in hand. Hearing no other sound he stepped cautiously out of the glow of the fire and towards the dark forest.

"Cullen?"

Relaxing his guard, he turned. "Bethany. Your message was vague."

"I. Yes. Thank you for coming." Hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt, Bethany moved towards the fire. "I'm in need of help."

Following her lead, Cullen stood a few paces away and warmed himself by the fire. "Why would a Warden need my help? The Templars I have that haven't fled to join their fellows in rebellion are fully stretched simply helping the guard keep the peace."

"Not the Wardens, me. I need your help." She'd known this was going to be difficult. Reminding herself firmly why she was here, Bethany steeled her nerves. "I've heard rumours that the Divine has sent Seekers to Kirkwall. To ask about my sister."

"Have you."

His non-committal response was answer enough. It was true then. "You know they'll ask about Meredith. About what happened in the Gallows."

"Yes."

"They'll want to know about the Idol." She tensed when he turned from the fire to face her. "Will you tell them?"

"If your intent is to ask me to lie for you, I will not. I'm sorry, but its my duty to." He couldn't speak, he tried, forcing his lips to move, but nothing happened.

Bethany winced when Cullen's eyes widened in shock. "Don't struggle." After a moment the spell strengthened and he stilled. Aware but unable to move. Gesturing quickly she beckoned the men she'd brought with her out of the trees. "Hurry, the spell won't hold long." There was a flash of light and Cullen slammed to the ground. "Why did you do that!"

"Best to be sure with Templars." The mage moved to stand over the still body. "I think we should kill him and be done with it."

"No." Pushing the mage away, one of the others knelt to check Cullen's breathing. "I didn't pull him out of a cage all those years ago just so you could kill him." Looking up he grinned. "You have no idea how difficult it was."

Bethany sighed. "Alistair, not now."

"Yes, yes. Back to business." Moving around he hooked his arms under Cullen's shoulders and lifted when another warden took his feet. "We'll get him on his way." Glancing at her he frowned. "You'll see to the dwarf?"

"Don't fret about Varric, he knows what to say to the Seekers."

. . .

"_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder._"

The voice, his own, almost blocked the sound of the cage. It hummed. Cullen swore it did. Hummed softly and constantly, driving its sound into his brain. The sound of the cage was better than the sound of their voices. They would drift in gently, seductively, tempting him with thoughts he shouldn't have, offering, things, he shouldn't want. Trying to deceive him.

"Cullen?"

_Her_ voice. They'd taunted him with that before. He'd not listen. It was a trick. Or was it? He couldn't quite remember now. Why was he resisting? It was so difficult to resist.

"_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure."_

"Cullen."

She was dead, he knew that. Greagoir had told him she was. Why was it so hot? And that noise, it was so loud. Humming, in his head, humming.

_"I shall weather the storm. I shall endure."_

The cage changed colours. White, then blue. It blinded him with its radiance. Was it moving? It seemed to shimmer as it hummed.

"Why are you still here?"

The odd question caught his attention and he looked up. "Greagoir said I had to stay here." He'd have preferred to fight with the Wardens. It was his duty to protect the innocent. "That's what being a Templar is." Cullen shook his head. "I'll take that risk."

"Will you?"

"We can't kill them if they're innocent. Its not what we do." As strange as everything was, that was one thing he was certain of. "Greagoir's sending me to Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall?"

"He destroyed the Chantry." Remembering Cullen frowned. "Killed the Grand Cleric." Pushing that away he tried again. "Has the messenger arrived from Denerim?"

He panicked briefly when the vision shook its head and turned to leave. "Don't." She seemed to pause and then walked away.

"_I shall endure_."

. . .

"He thought I was someone else." Meghan didn't need Alistair's nod to know she was right. "Poor thing."

"Poor thing! Maker, Meg, he's mad." She chuckled. "And don't laugh at me."

"No ser."

"Alright fine, he's not mad. He may die however. I'm not sure if anyone survives lyrium withdrawal after so long." Alistair couldn't remember anyone doing so, but he wouldn't say so to Meg. She was too soft-hearted. "Perhaps we should give him some lyrium, it might ease his. Oh. I mean." Alistair looked up at the sky. "That is."

"Do you really think he's going to die?" She knew Alistair didn't always mean exactly what he said. "Should we fetch a healer to him?"

"I'm not sure sending a mage in there is a good idea. Crazy Templar, locked in a room, toss in one mage. Boom! Someone will surely come out of that badly." And he wasn't sure it would be the Templar. "We could try potions? I'm not sure to be honest. The Commander said to lock him up and see how he got through it."

"Hmpf. I didn't think your commander was so mean as to let someone die like that. Its horrible!"

"The Commander wanted to kill him. This was the best I could do." Alistair hadn't been joking when he'd told Michel that he wanted to keep Cullen alive. It was an odd thing he supposed, but he felt some sense of responsibility for the Templar. Probably because they'd both known Caeren, before she was 'the Warden' and when she was just 'that elf'. Well, Cullen hadn't _known_ her, but Caeren had cared enough about him to worry about how he'd managed after Uldred. Now she was gone, Maker knew where, even that slim connection meant something.

"I could give him some lyrium. If you can get some? He didn't attack me when I took the water in before." Meghan grinned when Alistair rubbed his shoulder. "That's going to leave a bruise."

Cursed Templar had managed to knock him over. As Meg said though, Cullen hadn't attacked her. "Don't give him too much, just a few drops in water. That should be enough I think." After thinking it through, Alistair thought he had a plan that might work. "I should be able to get the lyrium by tonight. Meet me in the kitchen after supper."

"I need to clear the dining hall first. Then see to the floors. I think the." Meghan stopped when Alistair held his hand up. "What?"

"I see you work harder than I do. Meet me at midnight. In the kitchen." After a pause he grinned. "If you think your work will be finished by then."

. . .

"Cullen?" Meghan crept into the dark room, hoping she wasn't about to be punched. When nothing happened, she relaxed a little and moved closer to the bed. "Cullen."

That soft voice, it sounded so familiar. "Mother?"

"That's right, dear." At least he wouldn't hit his mother. Sitting carefully beside him, Meghan lifted Cullen's head a little. "Drink this dear, you'll feel better." Thank the Maker he sipped the water she held to his lips without a fight.

After putting the mug on the table beside the bed, she tried to stand. "Cullen, I need to go." He didn't seem to hear her and lay down with his head on her lap. "Oh Maker." His head felt warm, perhaps he had a fever?

"How do you feel?" He didn't answer her but made a soft groaning noise. "Does your head hurt?"

"Yes."

Well it seemed she was trapped for now. "Go back to sleep dear, you'll feel better soon." To encourage him, Meghan did what her mother used to do for her when she was ill and softly stroked her fingers through his hair. "There now. Sleep."

There was something he needed to tell her. Something important. "They took the statue."

"Did they?"

"Meredith. They took her." Cullen knew this was important. He had to make sure she knew. "Grey wardens. They took Meredith."

Meghan's hand froze. The wardens had taken something, someone, and Cullen knew about it. Is this why they'd brought him here? "Who is Meredith?" He made a soft noise but didn't answer her question. Stroking his hair, Meghan thought about what he'd said and whether she should tell Alistair.

It was a dream, it was odd how he knew that. Unlike the other dreams he'd had, this one didn't bring pain or guilt, but only peace.

Cullen knew his mother was dead. He'd seen her die with his own eyes. It didn't seem to matter now, she was here, comforting as she'd always done. Speaking softly and stroking his hair. It was a dream he couldn't fight, not like the other dreams, that kind of temptation was easier to resist. This kind slid under his guard and found all his weak places. "I'm sorry mother."

"Don't be sorry dear." Poor thing. Meghan continued stroking his head softly, hoping she'd given him enough lyrium to help. What a horrible thing this was, she'd had no idea, not really.

What was it Alistair said? Oh yes. "Serve the Maker faithfully then die blind and insane." Now she understood better why he preferred being a warden, even with everything that brought.

. . .

The sudden shock of sound woke him. Clarity, of a sort, he supposed. Moving carefully Cullen slid off the bed and crept towards the door. His head ached, his whole body ached if it came to that, he felt sick and dizzy, but wasn't going to stop him.

Expecting to see a body in the bed, the guard was surprised that it was empty. Thinking the prisoner may have fallen off, he walked further inside. Then let out a yelp when he was suddenly pulled into the room. A sharp pain and he didn't make another sound.

It took some effort but Cullen managed to drag the limp body away from the door. After pushing it closed he turned back to examine the man. A guard of some sort? The heraldry seemed familiar. Cursing his inability to think, he pulled the man's sword loose of the scabbard and laid it on the floor. Finding a pouch on the man's belt he opened it, hoping there might be something to answer his questions.

The door opened suddenly and without thinking Cullen snatched up the guard's sword and spun. A woman, glancing down he noticed the tray. Food and drink. A servant then. Not prepared to chance they weren't trying to deceive him, Cullen braced his feet and pointed the sword at her nose.

Oh Maker. Perhaps giving him that lyrium hadn't been such a fine idea after all.

She seemed familiar. Her hair so, bright. Like a sunset. "Who are you?"

"Meg. Meghan." Oh dear. He'd killed Leam. "You killed Leam!"

"He's not dead." Her gaze shifted back to the guard again then up to him. Her hair was familiar but not her eyes. Those he'd never seen before. They didn't look like the eyes of someone who'd do this to him. They looked, innocent, he supposed, very soft and blue. Like his mother's eyes.

"Tell me where I am. Where you've brought me."

Meghan gripped the tray tightly and swallowed. She didn't think Cullen would kill her, but that sword looked awfully large and sharp. "Ferelden."

"Ferelden? Where in Ferelden?"

"The Vigil." She took a breath when the sword lowered a little. "Vigil's Keep." He frowned at her. "The Wardens ser. They brought you here." The sword lowered further. "How do you feel?"

"How do I feel? I just had a sword at your throat and you're enquiring after my health?"

As he seemed to have decided not to kill her, Meghan moved to put the tray down on the small table by the bed. "I nursed you, it seems wrong of me not to see if you're well." Once the tray was off her hands, she turned to face him. "You look pale."

That didn't surprise him. If he looked anything liked he felt, Cullen was sure she'd have run out screaming. "I'm well enough." Why was the floor moving? Using the sword to balance, he managed to get himself to the bed before he fell. Startled he looked up when she touched his face. "What are you doing?"

"Sit still now, while I see to you."

Her tone almost had him agreeing, it reminded him, again, of his mother. "You'd be better to see to the guard."

They both looked over at the still unconscious guard. "Oh." Feeling herself flush, Meghan straightened and clasped her hands together. "Well. Yes. I should. See to him."

Cullen waited but she didn't move. "I'm sure there's another guard you can call to help."

"Yes." The wardens wouldn't like his hurting one of their guards. They might take into their heads to kill him after all. Nodding decisively, Meghan crouched next to the guard and felt for breathing. "He's alive right enough."

"I believe I told you that." Cullen frowned when she hooked her hands under the guard's arms and dragged him out of sight of the door. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?" The sound of armour on stone had him on his feet. "They're coming."

"I hear." They wouldn't see the guard easily and if luck was with her, not at all. "Sit down." He looked like he was about to refuse, so Meghan put both hands on his chest and pushed him. "Sit." He didn't budge, another stubborn man. "Sit down for Andraste's sake!"

It was an inappropriate time, but he later swore it just came out of its own accord. "Yes mother." She huffed and pushed harder. This time he sat. Hearing a clatter he looked down and saw she'd kicked the sword under bed.

"Don't you dare move. Just sit here and try to look sick."

That wouldn't be too difficult, he certainly felt sick. Moving his foot back a little he felt for the sword. Thank the Maker it wasn't so far under the bed that he wouldn't be able to get it if he needed.

The footsteps they'd both heard stopped and Cullen saw a man standing in the doorway. A warden, at least he could recognise that armour. The warden looked at him, then the woman, then around the room.

"Where's the guard gone to?" Bad question. Alistair regretted it as soon as he asked. Meg moved and Cullen grabbed her. Unsheathing his sword slowly he took one step into the room. "You'll let my wife loose or I'll kill you Templar."

"Alistair, its alright." Meg squealed when Cullen abruptly pushed her towards the door.

"Apologies." His mind might still be confused but he remembered the warden clearly enough now. "I recall I owe you my life, I won't repay that by harming your wife."

"Good to hear." Despite that assurance, Alistair tucked Meg behind the protection of his body. Once that was done he took the time to have a good look at Cullen. "You look like shit Cullen." He grinned when Cullen coughed. Almost a laugh, perhaps the man would survive after all. "We gave you some lyrium to help with the withdrawal. It seems to have worked."

"It will I think, for a while." He'd need more if the effect was to last. "Will you allow me to leave?"

"I can't." Alistair hadn't thought much past keeping the Templar alive, now they had the problem of what do with him once he'd recovered. "Perhaps we can send you to Weisshaupt. I'm sure they have better, erm, cells."

"I'm a prisoner then?" Cullen didn't need more than the expression on Alistair's face for an answer. "Am I permitted to ask why?"

"Now you're lucid we can send a healer in to look at you." Alistair backed out of the room pushing Meg along with him. "You won't attack a mage if one comes in here will you?"

It was obvious he wouldn't get any information, not yet at any rate. "I'll do my best not to."

"Good, good." When Meg shoved her fist in his back, he turned to glare. "Beg pardon wife?"

"Leam, the guard. Best fetch him out."

"Hmm." Not quite trusting that Cullen wouldn't try to get out if he went in himself, Alistair backed into the hallway. "You there! Scout. I need you." After blinking at him in surprise the scout trotted over to stand nearby. "Inside this room, fetch the body. Careful of the prisoner."

"Warden?"

She wasn't in armour but was wearing a tunic, so he decided she must be on her way to the dining hall for morning meal. "The body of the guard. Fetch it out if you would."

The guards had told her this Alistair was peculiar, given to strange fancies and odd speech. Bridgette had thought they were exaggerating. "If you say so."

"I do say so."

Bridgette stepped into the room as she'd been told to. "Good morning." The man on the bed nodded to her. "Where is this guard?"

"Behind the bed." Cullen didn't think she could manage the man alone. She was a sturdy looking girl but a man's dead weight would be too much for her. "I'll help you."

"No need." Bridgette had dragged heavier weight than one man and the prisoner, whoever he was, didn't appear to be up to helping in any case. He looked like he needed a good month's rest and a bath. Definitely a bath. His tunic was filthy. His tunic. His tunic with the Sword of Mercy embroidered on it. Holy Maker, what were the wardens up to? "I can manage."

The guard was lying behind the bed as they'd said. Bending she hooked her hands around the guard's shoulders and started dragging him to the door.

Cullen winced when the door slammed sending a shaft of pain through his head. He was trapped again, for now, best to take the time to rest and gather his strength. The tray left on the table caught his eye and he lifted the mug. Peering in he could see the the lyrium resting in the bottom. It did that if you didn't stir it properly. Meghan had brought a spoon for the food so he used that to mix the potion into the water again.

Refusing to admit his hand was shaking, he drained the mug in one swallow.


End file.
